


Resolution

by Signe_chan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Get Together, M/M, New Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 13:05:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3069092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Signe_chan/pseuds/Signe_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint makes a New Year’s Resolution—but Phil makes it difficult for him to keep it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resolution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ereshai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/gifts).



“Has Phil called you?” Natasha asked, taking another sip of her beer. Clint frowned, looking down at the bottle in his own hand like it held some kind of answer. A better answer than the one he had, anyway. 

“Yeah, once,” he said, twirling the bottle and watching the contents swirl. Cheap beer with a nasty aftertaste but good enough for him. Good enough for tonight. “Wanted to know if I wanted to rebuild SHIELD.” 

“I take it you said no.” 

“I said no,” Clint agreed. “Couldn’t get into all that shit again. Not when I’m out. Not when I’ve got my own life now.” He gestured with the bottle to indicate the farm. It wasn’t much and it wasn’t exactly bringing in a lot of money for him but it was his. He got up in the morning and he didn’t have to answer to anyone but himself and he’d needed that. Needed space and time to deal with everything he’d done for Loki. 

It had been years and he still needed it. He kept busy, kept his head down. He didn’t need to be dragged into Phil Coulson’s world again. He’d gone along once, not again. 

“You still love him?” 

“Yes,” Clint said, she’d know if he was lying and it wasn’t like there was any point denying it to himself. He still woke up and thought about Phil first thing every morning. Still spend his working day wishing Phil was there with him. “I won’t, though. I’m going to stop.” 

“You’re going to stop loving him?” she asked, tone heavy with skepticism. “You think it’s going to be that easy after all this time?” 

“No,” Clint admitted. “But I’m going to. I mean, I don’t see the guy anymore and I’ve loved him so hopelessly for so long, there’s gotta be something else out there for me. You only get one shot at living life, Nat. I don’t want to waste mine pining after Phil Coulson.” 

“I agree,” she said, throwing her head back to finish her beer. He nodded, finishing his own. It was nearly midnight and it was cold on the roof of his run-down farm house but he didn’t care. It was 2015, it was a new year and he was going to make a resolution. He’d never made one before, they were so much rubbish but here he was. He was going to make a resolution to give up loving Phil Coulson. 

After all, how hard could that be? 

***

**25% of New Year’s resolutions don’t last past the first week.**

***

Clint picked up his phone without thinking. Why should he, it was going to be Nat. It was always Nat. He didn’t look at the screen, just jammed the thing to his ear and carried on mixing. 

“Hello.” 

“Hello, Clint.” 

He put the bowl down quickly before he could drop it and ruin the god damn cake mix (yeah, he made his own cakes. What?). He pulled the phone away from his ear and cursed because, yeah, right there. Phil. Fuck. 

“Clint?” he heard Phil say through the tinny phone speakers and he wanted to slam the end-call button. He should have slammed the end-call button but the heart was weak and it was only a phone call. It wasn’t like it meant anything. 

“Hey, sorry,” he said, pressing the phone to his ear again. “I thought it’d be Nat. I wasn’t expecting you.” 

“I’m sorry,” Phil said, tone more cautious than Clint was used to hearing from him. “You want me to hang up?” 

“No,” Clint said, flopping down into one of his dining chairs. “No, it’s alright. Are you alright? You don’t normally call...” 

“I know,” Phil said, and he sounded so small and so far away. Which was good because Clint needed him small and far away because he wasn’t going to be in love with him any more. Unrequited love was for losers. “I’m fine. I just...is it that weird that I’m calling you?” 

“Phil, you’ve called me once since...” he couldn’t bring himself to say what since. They both knew what since. Since Loki. Since Phil bleeding out on the floor. Since Phil lying on a hospital bed pleading for them to let him die while the doctors tried to bring him back. Since Clint and turned and run as far and as fast as he could from that life and everything to do with it. 

“I’m sorry,” Phil said, “I’ve let things get the better of me but that’s no excuse. I just...we were friends, right?” 

“Yes,” Clint agreed. They’d been friends. Never anything else but friends. The only friend Clint had only Natasha came along. God but he’d resented Natasha sometimes for how she’d taken over part of the space that had been just him and Phil. As much as he’d loved her for being a friend who he wasn’t secretly in love with. 

“I miss you,” Phil said. He sounded so sincere that it was almost enough to make Clint put down what he was doing and rush to Phil. To stand next to him again and promise him things and let things go back to how they were so Phil didn’t have to miss him again. 

But he wasn’t going to do that because he wasn’t in love with Phil any more. 

“I’m not joining SHIELD again,” Clint said. He was pretty sure by now that the call wasn’t about that but he wanted to get it out of the way. 

“I’m not asking you to,” Phil confirmed. “I just miss you. Miss your friendship. I know...you can’t say no but I’d like to have that again. Some of it. Would you...” 

Could he was more the issue. Could he be friends with Phil Coulson? He’d been kind of bad at it before with all the secret being in love he had going on. Could they be friends? He’d like to but was that just the love talking? 

More importantly, if he said no to the only human being other than Nat who’d really reached out to him since Loki would he regret it for the rest of his life? 

“Yeah,” he said, closing his eyes in defeat. “Yeah, I’d like to be friends again.” 

“Good,” Phil said, and he sounded so damn relieved. “Good. I...so, tell me. How’s the farm?” 

***

**29% of New Year’s resolutions don’t last past the second week.**

***

“Skye’s the one who’s got powers now, right?” 

“Yeah,” Phil said, sounding tired. It was the tone of voice that had always made Clint want to pull Phil into his arms and hold him until whatever was making him sound like that went away but he didn’t want to do that now because now things had changed. Now they were friends. Now he didn’t love Phil any more. 

Alright, maybe he wanted to do that a tiny bit but Rome wasn’t built in a day and he’d loved Phil for SO LONG. It wasn’t like he could just give that up overnight. But he was making progress. 

For example, he’d spoken to Phil every day for the past week but only because Phil had phoned him. He hadn’t given in and phoned Phil. That was progress. 

He was making progress. 

“So, she set fire to what again?” 

“The microwave,” Phil said with a put-upon sigh. “I don’t...well, she was doing something with Jemma. I don’t want to know what. Jemma just said something about science...” 

“Jemma’s Simmons?” 

“Yes,” Phil confirmed. “They’re good kids...people. Good people. They’re just enjoying their down-time a little too much.” 

“No such thing,” Clint said with a lazy grin. “And don’t you say there is. I remember the time after Marrakesh.” 

After Marrakesh they’d had to go to ground for a few days. Phil had thrown together diplomatic Ids for the three of them and got them a penthouse suite in a top hotel on SHIELD’s credit card. They’d spent five days eating room service and spending money in the spa. When Fury had found out he’d thrown a fit. A microwave was nothing compared to that. 

“That’s a valid point,” Phil said, and he sounded happier, like he was remembering the place too. “You remember those crab things they had in the restaurant?” 

“Perfectly,” Clint grinned. They’d eaten so many of them the waiter had given them odd looks. Clint hadn’t cared. He wasn’t exactly cut out for fine dining and small portions and if he was a bit less than sophisticated there people put it down to his being an American and not his specific upbringing. And Phil had been right there with him smiling and eating and laughing. 

God but he wanted Phil’s smile back. 

***

**36% of New Year’s resolutions don’t last one month.**

***

When he heard the knock at the door Clint’s hand still went straight for his bow, though he hadn’t carried it with him in years. He sighed, standing and stretching. He’d been hauling wood all day and patching up the old barn. It wasn’t much but it kept the livestock he had from the cold. Just a few animals, just for him. He made money (or tried to) on crops. But the animals still needed looking after. 

It was dark out so looking through the peep hole didn’t help him work out who was outside. There was a porch light but it was bust and he hadn’t gotten around to fixing it yet. Idiot. Not like it’d be anyone anyway. It’d be Nat, though she normally texted first. 

Or maybe he’d just heard the wind or something. Maybe it was nobody. He lay a hand on the old wood of his front door then, with a decisive movement, reached down and pulled it open. 

Phil Coulson was standing on his front step. He was wearing a rumpled suit, had bandages on his face, his hair was a mess. He was a mess. Clint wanted to hold on to him and never let go. 

“Clint,” Phil said, smiling that small unassuming smile and Clint couldn’t keep the grin off his face in response. 

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting you,” Clint said, stepping back. “Come on it.” 

“Thanks,” Phil said, stepping into Clint’s dingy little hallway. He didn’t comment on it, didn’t force Clint to lie about how he was going to get around to decorating it any day now. Not that he wasn’t getting there but there was a lot of do in the house and on the farm. Maybe too much for just him but he had all the time in the world. 

“Here, let me get you a drink,” Clint said, diverting Phil into the kitchen which, if not entirely renovated, had at least been painted since he’d moved in. He spent most of his time here, after all. “You want coffee?” 

“Please,” Phil said, slumping into one of Clint’s dining chairs. “I’m sorry to intrude. I was just in the area...” 

That was bullshit. Clint lived a million miles from anywhere but Clint wasn’t going to call him on it, not when he was so glad to see him. 

“You’re always welcome here.” 

“Thanks,” Phil said, and Clint didn’t have to turn around and look at the guy to know he was smiling again. That warm, genuine smile he got when people did things for him, now. But Clint wasn’t looking because he wasn’t obsessed and he wasn’t in love with Phil any more. “I can’t stay long, I’m kind of mid-mission, I just couldn’t pass up the chance to see you.” 

Clint blushed a little at that, though of course Phil couldn’t see him. It was normal to blush when your friend told you that you were important to them. Normal and innocent and not at all a sign of how Clint was still in love. 

He was getting better every day. It had only been a month, he had a full year to fall entirely out of love. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said in the end, putting the mug of coffee down in front of Phil and placing his own on the table across from him. “Seems like a million years since I actually saw your face.” 

“That’s not too much of a loss,” Phil joked. “It’s not like I’m much to look at.” 

Clint didn’t correct him though he kind of wanted to. He kind of wanted to kiss every centimeter of Phil’s face to prove just how perfect and wonderful it was. But he wanted it less than he had and that was progress. Baby steps. 

“How long is not long,” he said instead, sitting down before he could get any crazy ideas like pulling Phil into his arms and refusing to let go or something. “It’s pretty late, you staying the night?” 

“If you have room for me.” 

“Sure,” Clint said with a shrug. The spare room was actually one of the nicer rooms in the house since Nat had fixed it up herself. She’d told him that if he expected her to visit she wasn’t going to slum it like he did. “Like I said, you’re always welcome.” 

“I’ll have to be gone first thing in the morning,” Phil said, taking out his phone and checking it. “I wasn’t lying about being mid-mission.” 

“Didn’t think you were for a second,” Clint said. “I can’t really show you around the farm since it’s dark and all but want me to show you the house?” 

“Sure,” Phil said, standing up with his coffee and it was so familiar, so perfect, Clint wanted to cry. It was like coming home in the most ridiculous way possible. He was in so much trouble. “Lead on.” 

***

When Clint got up the next morning Phil was already gone, the only proof he’d ever been there his washed breakfast things on the draining board and the gaping hole Clint was refusing to acknowledge in his heart. 

***

**54% of New Year’s resolutions don’t last six months.**

***

Clint was calling it, this year was officially shit. Yes, he was only six months into it but he felt justified in just calling it now and being done with it. He climbed out of the car and stretched, looking at his ratty old house. At least he was home. For some values of home. 

His arm was healed. It’d gotten bust up pretty bad with, you know, the entire fighting Ultron thing. And he could hardly come back here with a busted arm. And it had brown his entire planting season to shit so next year he was going to be back to square one. At least this year he was going to live courtesy of Tony ‘fucking asshole’ Stark who’s inability to take care of the shit he made had meant Clint had to leave his damn farm and get back into the game. 

He hadn’t wanted to be back in the game. He hadn’t wanted to risk his life again. He wasn’t a superhero, though he knew there was a place on the team for him. He was just a guy with arrows. He couldn’t deal with this shit. 

Except he had dealt with that shit. Except a part of him had been more alive in that battle than he had been in years. Except a part of him thought the months in the hospital and the tower getting back to full strength were worth it to be useful again. 

He walked up to the door and fished his key out of his pocket. The paint was still peeling, he should really get around to that. When he opened the door it creaked which was new. He’d need some oil for the hinges, then. He had a lot of work to do. 

He went through into the kitchen. Everything was covered with a light layer of dust. He’d have to get on that. He’d have to drive out to town for food. He hadn’t even thought to bring any with him. He was such an idiot. 

Such a worthless idiot. 

The rush of self-hatred took him by surprised and he ended up kneeling down, clutching himself. He was an idiot. He didn’t want to be here alone. He didn’t but...but he couldn’t be out there again. He’d hurt someone again or mess up or something. This was beyond him in ways nothing had been before but...what if they needed him? 

He didn’t fucking know what to do. 

He wanted Phil. 

Wanted Phil worse than he’d ever wanted him before. Wanted to see him and hold him and have someone to work all this shit through with. 

He was dialing before he could think better of it. Phil probably had better things to be doing than dealing with Clint having a minor breakdown on the kitchen floor but he was going to ask anyway. Because they were friends. Because Clint needed him. 

The call went to voice mail. 

He threw the phone across the room, immediately panicking and throwing himself after it as it smashed into the wall with a sickening clunk. He picked the thing up, looking at the smashed screen. Tony was going to kill him, brand new phone and he’d already smashed the screen. Only he wasn’t going to talk to Tony again because he didn’t need them. He just needed his farm...

He was going to have to get new animals. He’d given them all to the Johnsons when he went away to fight fucking Ultron. He had nothing. Just a piece of shit house and a broken phone. 

What the hell was he doing with his life? 

Couldn’t he go five damn minutes without messing things up? 

He’d probably have lain there a little longer if it hadn’t been for the sound of wheels on the gravel outside. He pushed himself off the floor and shoved his phone back into his pocket. It was one thing to be fucked up on your own, it was another to let people see. He went and opened the door. 

Phil was parking Lola along Clint’s battered pickup. He let himself breath again. Phil was here, things were going to be alright. 

He waited in the doorway while Phil climbed out of Lola, took of his sunglasses. He was dressed casually today. Well, Phil casual. A shirt, jeans. His sleeves were rolled up showing his forearms, his top button undone. He was almost sinfully under-dressed by Phil Coulson standards and Clint wanted to kiss him all over. 

Other things Clint sucked at – New Year’s resolutions. 

“Hey,” Phil said, waving at Clint and then jogging over. “Sorry I didn’t stop to answer your call but I was nearly here.” 

“Why are you here?” He knew he shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t take risks with his luck but, well, he had to know. 

“Natasha called me. She said you’d left the tower.” 

“Yeah,” Clint said with a shrug. “I mean, that was only temporary, right? Gotta get back to my life sometime.” 

Phil put his sunglasses in his pocket and looked pointedly around. He looked at the fading, chipped paint. The dodgy rail that needed mending. He looked at the barren fields. Then he turned slowly to look at Clint again. Clint winced. 

“You know, if you don’t want to come back I’m not going to force you,” Phil said, slowly. “It’s just...the past few weeks you’ve been quiet. Something’s bothering you and, well, we’re friends, right?” 

“Yeah,” Clint said, trying not to make it sound bitter. Because they were friends. Good friends. Phil was probably the person he’d had the most contact with this year. Phil was the person who’d visited him in the most when he was in the hospital. Phil was the person who phoned him every day they didn’t see each other to check in. Phil had become his fucking constant, his fucking rock. He’d never been this close to anyone. He’d though he was in love with Phil before but now...

Now he needed Phil and he didn’t want to need anybody. That was the entire point of the stupid fucking farm. To prove to the world he could do this on his own. He didn’t need anybody. 

“Clint...” 

“I’m fine,” Clint said, turning back into his stupid musty old hallway. “I just have a lot to do here so...” 

“Clint.” Clint stopped when Phil’s hand grabbed his arm. Phil had been doing that more, recently. Touching him. They’d never touched before. Not really. A stray brush of bodies now and then but now Phil touched him with intent. Phil touched him like he wanted to be touching Clint. 

And god, Clint needed those touches. Needed Phil. And it was all going to end horribly. 

And he must have been shaking like the damn mess he was because Phil wasn’t letting go, instead he was moving closer, pulling Clint into his arms and holding on and Clint...Clint clung. He wasn’t ashamed to admit it. He clung to Phil. Buried his face in his neck and breathed him in. 

He didn’t want to live here alone any more. He wanted to be surrounded by friends. He wanted to be important, to save lives. He wanted Phil to be his best friend but he couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand friends who knew what he’d been under Loki. Couldn’t be a hero when there was nothing special about him. Couldn’t be Phil’s friend when he needed so much more. 

Didn’t fucking know how to let go of any of the things he had which he didn’t deserve so he’d run.   
Some fucking hero. 

“Clint, talk to me,” Phil said, running a hand up and down Clint’s back. “We can fix whatever’s wrong, I just need you to talk to me.” 

“I’m really crap at New Year’s resolutions,” Clint said. He knew it was a stupid thing to say, knew he’d have to explain and he didn’t want to but...but maybe he did want to. Maybe if he just let all this stupid shit out then Phil could be disappointed in him and leave and he could get back to being miserable in peace. 

It was all going to come out in the end anyway. 

“I’m not a superhero,” was what he went with as an opening. “I’m just some guy who’s alright with arrows.” 

“Clint...” 

“No, just listen. I’m a fucking liar. I’m not a hero, I’m a human disaster. There are better people than me for the Avengers. The others don’t actually need me or care about me, they just feel sorry for me. I’m a piece of shit. I just...I’m not even your friend. All you wanted was for me to be your friend and I can’t even fucking do it because I love you.” 

Clint’s back was a board it was so tense. His knuckles white where they clutched at Phil’s shirt. He was going to fucking cry if he wasn’t careful and that would just be beyond pitiful. Phil was going to shove him away any second now and he was going to be a mess and it was all going to be terrible. 

“You know,” Phil said, and he sounded almost amused. “Most people would have just asked me on a date.” 

“Like you’d say yes.” 

“Well, I think we’ve established your inferiority complex is quite developed by now but, yes, I would say yes. I am saying yes. I’m not...I don’t think I quite care for you as much as you care for me yet but I can see myself getting there. So if you’d like to try, I’d like to try.” 

Clint pulled back. That was, honestly, about the last thing he’d expected. But, then, he’d expected some kind of dramatics and Phil had never been good with dramatics. He preferred things calm, level. That was one of the things Clint liked about him. 

“Yeah,” Clint said after a second pause. “Yeah, let’s do that.” 

“So dramatic,” Phil said with a fond smile, then he leant in and pressed a soft kiss against Clint’s lips and it was the best thing Clint had ever felt. Maybe he was just a little bit dramatic. 

“As for the rest,” Phil said, so close Clint could feel the words on his skin. “You are a hero. You don’t have powers, true, but you’ve never let that stop you before. You’ve always done what’s best for people, even for people you don’t know. That’s a hero to me. And you’ve more than held your place in the team.” 

“But how long’s that going to last?” 

“As long as you keep fighting for it,” Phil said with a shrug. “There’s always going to be a place for you there because they’re always going to need people like you. Powers don’t make you a hero, it’s what’s inside.” 

“Did you get that from a Captain America comic?” Clint asked, laughing when he saw Phil flush a little. He was right. And he’d laughed for the first time in weeks. And maybe Phil was right too. Maybe if Clint had been wrong about the entire Phil never wanting him thing he could be wrong about the entire never being a real Avenger thing too. 

Maybe, for once, he didn’t mind being wrong. 

“So,” Phil said, running a hand over Clint’s back. “Are you coming back to the tower or am I leaving you here alone in this ruin of a house.” 

“It’s not a ruin,” Clint objected, though it kind of was. “And fine, I’ll come back. But don’t tell anyone why I ran away.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Phil said, kissing him again, softly. “It’ll be much easier to date you if you’re in New York, anyway. Did you intentionally pick the worst place in the world to get to when you bought this place?” 

“Maybe,” Clint said with a shrug. “Doesn’t matter. Let me grab a few things and we can get out of here.” 

“And go home.” 

“And go home.” 

***

**Just 8% of people achieve their New Year’s resolutions.**

***

New York looked beautiful from the top of the tower. Clint still wasn’t entirely convinced about the place from ground level but from up here it was stunning. They’d moved the party out onto the roof with ten minutes to go and while the others were topping up their drinks and drunkenly leaning against each other he and Phil had made their way over to the edge to sit with their legs dangling over the side. 

2015 hadn’t turned out anything like Clint had planned. He’d thought about crops and paint and letting go, turned out it was a year old heroes and love and holding on. 

“Are you going to make a resolution?” Phil asked. He’d been drinking Champaigne all night and was pliant and happy as he leant against Clint’s side. Clint raised an arm to wrap around his waist. 

“Nah, they never work out,” he said. “Besides, life’s pretty good right now.” He had a job he loved. He had friends who appreciated him. He had a therapist who was helping him work though some of his ‘not good enough’ shit and he had Phil, his boyfriend. His very understanding, calm boyfriend who he loved more than ever. 

He really did suck a New Year’s resolutions. 

“Alright,” Tony shouted, calling all their attention. “We’re nearly there. The ball drops in 10, 9, 8..” They all joined in with him, counting down to the last minute then cheering as the old year slipped into the new. As they all raised their glasses he turned and kissed Phil who kissed him back, humming gently against his lips. It was the perfect new year, everything he could have asked for.


End file.
